


A Rose's regret.

by TayBartlett9000



Category: British Royalty RPF, Historical RPF, Mary Queen of Scots (2018), Reign (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Catholicism, Crown, Death, England - Freeform, Execution, Family, First Person, Gen, God - Freeform, Historical, History, Monarch - Freeform, Plot, Queen - Freeform, Regret, Royalty, Scotland, kingdom - Freeform, protistantism, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TayBartlett9000/pseuds/TayBartlett9000
Summary: Mary Stuart, queen of Scotland is dead. Queen Elizabeth reflects upon her decision to put the  queen to death. Despite what people  within the kingdom of  England  probably think,  the queen does have regrets.





	A Rose's regret.

Fotheringhay Castle, February 7 1587.

What must the English   people think of me now? I know that the news of her death will already be sweeping the country.  How must they view me in the light of the catholic queen’s death? I cannot say, though I do of course know that the reaction over Mary’s death will dountless be two fold. I know also that the feelings surrounding her death will be many and profound.  

I know that the rise of catholic anger over my protestant rule is growing  increasingly evident and that many will doubtless be infuriated at the death of a true catholic monarch  upon my own instruction. But I also know that even the catholics living in England would have rather had a protestant queen of English birth  than  a catholic queen of foreign blood. I know then that even if the margin between support and  denouncement may  be slim, I  will be  safe. I know that some will be angry over my decision a week ago to put the foolish queen to death, but this is a thing that I cannot change now. She is dead. Not even the good lord himself can change this. Mary Stuart is now far beyond any help that anyone of this mortal world could offer her.   

I wonder if the good lord himself is angry with my actions. Mary Stuart was a queen,  an anointed queen set far above the people of this world and second only to God. She was one of his chosen few and I am sure that my  killing of her is a sin that will displease God. However, I can no  more do something about God’s anger than I can the queen’s life. It is over. It is done.

And yet I regret. Yes, I, queen Elizabeth, queen of   England’s sacred isle regret what I have done. Though Mary Stuart was nothing but trouble for me in life and that she  will probably prove to be somewhat troublesome in death, she was my cousin. There is something   sinful about the killing of one’s family members. I should know. My father did such a thing to my mother. He professed his love for her, and yet he killed her without consideration. Perhaps the people of England will see this flaw in my own actions. Perhaps they will see in me  nothing more than a tyrant like the king who came before my brother, sister and I. I hope not, for a tyrant is something I never wished to be. I  put the catholic fool to death in order to better protect the   kingdom from the sorts of chaos that my sister Mary brought upon her people during her own reign. My sister Mary tortured those who did not willingly bow to the catholic faith. Perhaps Mary Stuart would have done the same. I cannot say.  

 If only the  Scottish queen hadn’t been such a fool. Perhaps if she hadn’t added her signature to the documents concerning the Babington plot organised to try  to dethrone me, then I may have seen fit to save her life.  I had recognised in Mary a true queen, though her faith  was a sin  in the eyes of our one true  sovereign lord, but I had also seen in her a fool  who had seen greater importance in her marriage with the lord Bothwell than keeping herself safe. In this foolishness, Mary Stuart willingly or unwillingly committed treason. That was something that I could not allow. Nobody, be that woman queen or mere peasant, should be allowed to live with the sin of treason above her head. I had had no choice, dispite the hesitancy at which I signed her death warrant in the end. I know that in doing what I did, I have managed to remove a catholic threat from the  country and perhaps this is the  only light that illuminates the darkness of this day. I know that Scottish lords and  also Scotland’s king wanted rid of the queen and that my actions have allowed them ultimate power. But I am now faced with yet another concern.  Though Mary Stuart is now dead and therefore no more threat to my country or my crown, her son is still alive. This means that King James will become another possible successor to my throne. This means that though I have removed one possible threat, I have opened the doors to another.

I stand here in the cold at Fotheringhay castle,  wishing that I could turn from this place and run, never looking back lest I remember the death of my cousin, killed by  my own  signature and on my orders, but  I will never become the coward  that my father eventually became. I am sure that as history unfolds, this day may prove  in  hindsight to be a damaging moment of my leadership. However, this is a chance that  I have to take. I shall return to my own country and continue to rule as I see fit. No  longer  will royal traitors try and destabilise everything that I have tried to piece back together.  Never again will I be dogged by the ever present threat of death or danger. I am the queen of England, the true queen of England. I shall not allow my  regrets to take me over. I shall rule. This  queen will bow to no one. Even if the country is in chaos when I finally return to the palace, I shall not  crumble. Mary Stuart crumbled  before the love of Bothwell and did many foolish things because of and in persute of that love. I shall never allow myself to make the same mistakes.


End file.
